


Of Lips And Snaky Eyes

by neuroglam



Category: British Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Character Study, Drama, Fluff, M/M, RPF, Romance, do not copy to another site, method acting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam/pseuds/neuroglam
Summary: Michael has always dreamed of working with David.Translation of bfcure's ficО, эти губы и глаза змеиные.:)
Relationships: Michael Sheen/David Tennant
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	Of Lips And Snaky Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bfcure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bfcure/gifts).
  * A translation of [Restricted Work] by [bfcure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bfcure/pseuds/bfcure). Log in to view. 



> All events herein are, of course, completely made up—except for the fact that Michael was certain: Neil was going to ask him to play Crowley.

Michael hesitates at the restaurant door and thinks—he’s about to have the most awkward lunch in his life. Even though he and Neil have known each other for a thousand years. The Good Omens script is done, and the invite to talk characters can only mean one thing: Neil is going to ask Michael to play the demon. To be expected, really, after sending Michael all those draft scenes and asking for his opinion. 

Michael is ecstatic about the project. He truly loves the book. The fans have been eager for a film adaptation—and Neil’s in charge of it, so it will be done right. But here is the thing: Michael doesn’t want to play Crowley. Not because Crowley is a bad character. On the contrary: Crowley is sincere, red-haired, and in love. It’s just that Michael would rather admire him from a distance… as Aziraphale: a bit of a bastard, stubborn under the soft veneer. Michael’s caught himself thinking about how he’d act it more than once. But how does he tell Neil? It would be like saying no if Peter Jackson ever called to offer Michael Bilbo—except Neil is a friend, which makes turning him down even harder. Michael knows there’s actors who’d sell their soul to the devil just so they can be be part of Neil’s project, let alone make demands. 

Michael sighs and walks into the restaurant, and quickly spots Neil at a corner table. Neil joyfully waves a hand. A bottle of champagne is chilling; the table’s covered with annotated print-outs, the menu almost forgotten in a corner. 

Michael orders something sea food without really looking at it. Right now, he’d probably have a hard time keeping anything down. Neil’s saying something, probably something important, but in Michael’s head there’s only white noise, individual words bumping around but not quite adding up to a coherent picture.

“I want to play Aziraphale,” Michael blurts out, fighting the urge to squint. 

—and is very surprised when Neil sighs. “Thank god. I’ve already got someone in mind for Crowley.”

“Oh? Who’s that?”

“David. Tennant.”

Michael can’t believe his ears. He’s been wanting to work with David for a long time, but somehow it’s never worked out. “Golden Youth” doesn’t count; they never even met on set. Could it be there might be a chance…?

“It won’t work,” Michael says. “Everyone thinks David and I act too similar, we always try out for the same roles.”

Neil frowns. “Bullshit. Listen, in episode three there’s a scene where Crowley goes into a church and walks like he’s on hot coals. Only David can pull that off. It has to be him. It’s decided.”

“I hope so,” says Michael.

***

David has a brilliant smile. For its sake, you can conquer Everest or descend to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Michael now sees why David is everyone’s favorite Doctor, why fans lose their minds after him. Plus, because life just isn’t fair, David is genuine and down to earth. 

From the very first reading of the script, Michael sinks into Aziraphale fully and irrevocably—because right next to him sits Crowley in the flesh: from the careless cross of his legs (ankle on knee, lilac socks with purple hearts), to the tousled bright-red hair. 

Right now, David is in a hairdresser’s chair, trying not to fidget as strand by strand is painstakingly added to his hair for the scene in the Garden of Eden.

“You’ve got boundless patience,” Michael admires. “Who’s the angel here, you or I?”

“I’ve had extensions before. For Richard II,” says David. “I could only grow my own hair to the shoulders—it takes time, you know. Then I walked around with long hair for half a year. People were probably laughing at me.”

“I think they must have envied you.”

“Hardly. I looked stupid.”

“I’m sure you looked very sexy.” Michael curses himself as soon as he says it. Stuff like this can earn you a slap in the face. Not all men are ok with such compliments from other guys. 

David laughs. “Glad you think so.”

Instinctively, Michael smiles in return.

***

Michael’s favorite scenes with Crowley and Aziraphale are the historical ones. Each and every costume is a work of art. David changes hairstyles like gloves. Also, his legs are beautiful, especially in stockings—which is a problem because it’s beyond Michael’s powers to stop staring at them. But all is good. David can’t seem to be able to take his eyes off Michael’s hands and lips, either. 

Dancing, of course, is indispensable to Good Omens. There’s no proper comedy if you leave out the dancing.

“Michael, very impressive,” Douglas says. “But please remember that the gavotte and the can-can are slightly different, alright?”

“I’m a disco dancer!” shouts David. And at the sight of what he and the other two “demons” are getting up to at the dance pole, the entire film crew starts laughing.

“I still don’t get how the gavotte and the can-can are different,” shamelessly admits Michael.

“And, we’re through!” Douglas waves a hand. “This take worked out wonderfully! Next stop—the air base!” 

The scenes, of course, are filmed out of order. Michael suspects directors choose the sequence with a random number generator. As an actor, it’s a thing you put up with.

“I hope we’re not setting the Bentley on fire for real?” asks David. “The owner’s not gonna like this. We already broke a door…”

“Not we. You.”

“It was an accident!”

“When you look at the burning car,” says Douglas, “imagine The Doctor has lost his beloved TARDIS…”

“No escaping The Doctor, eh?” Michael commiserates as they sip coffee during the break. 

David shrugs. “At least his precious dream came true.”

“What do you mean?”

“He finally got to be a red-head.”

They toast with the small paper cups and their fists bump—and not for the first time, Michael catches himself thinking that he’d like to kiss David like Aziraphale would kiss Crowley after preventing the end of the world.

***

“Take!”

Around them are the church “ruins,” their costumes white with limestone. David sneezes and stumbles on a stone, not falling only by some miracle—in the snake lenses and the sunglasses, he must see virtually nothing—and Michael can’t help but think how after the editing’s done, in this scene there’ll be romantic violins. 

Little by little, the set empties. They’re alone, the little lights around them burning dimly. David tucks his glasses in his coat pocket, but doesn’t hurry to leave.

Michael hopes: maybe he’ll get to walk David to the trailer again so he can remove the lenses safely.

“Cool hat. It suits you,” he says aloud. “Let’s steal it.”

“Why??” says David—but you can hear a smile in his voice.

“As a keepsake? No one will notice.” 

David takes off the hat and puts it on Michael’s head. “Clashes with the outfit a little but it looks good on you, too.”

“How would you know? You can’t see anything with those lenses on.”

David snorts. “Century sensation: Crowley steers the Bentley by feel.”

“Can’t rule that out. The Bentley is a smart girl, though. She’ll help out every step of the way.” 

“And they don’t even give her petrol. The ingratitude!” Somehow, David’s gotten impossibly close. He takes Michael’s face in his palms and lightly touches Michael’s lips with his. 

David’s lips are warm. Soft. Enchanting. David has kissed men before, Michael knows. Richard II and Duke whatever-his-name-was. John Barrowman, a couple of years ago at a convention. Barrowman had said he’d like to kiss David but he didn’t dare—and David had just walked up to him and done it. The video’s still making the rounds on YouTube. 

Michael wants to believe that the kiss they’re sharing now means more than those kisses—that it’s not just character immersion as per Stanislavsky’s method acting. Because Aziraphale would give the world for David. 

David pulls away from Michael’s lips. “I’m dying for coffee,” he whispers. “But my coffee pot broke this morning.”

“I’ve got one that works.” Aziraphale and Crowley have long become proficient with subtext. Michael, on the other hand, still has a thing or two to learn. “But first, let’s go get rid of these awful lenses.”

“Yes, lenses first,” says David. And pulls Michael close for kiss number two. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, consider leaving the original author a kudo and a comment [ here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594035).


End file.
